


Snapdragons and Demons

by Zyxen



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cryptids are Real, Damien is a good boi, Damien is actually a flower demon, Damien knows about them, Flower Demon Damien, Gen, I'll add more characters and whatnot as they become relevant, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Robert Small the cryptid hunter, Self-Indulgent, The Flower Demon AU that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyxen/pseuds/Zyxen
Summary: Mary accidentally summons a demon with magical powers over plant life and flowers. The demon quickly becomes a neighbor and a friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a totally self-indulgent AU.
> 
> The other Dads will appear, don't worry.
> 
> This was originally posted on my tumblr, zykaben.tumblr.com
> 
> If you want to ask a question, feel free to shoot me an ask or leave a comment!
> 
> Happy reading!

Mary knocked back another shot of vodka before she drunkenly surveyed the summoning circle one last time. The demonic summoning book was opened to a random page, the nigh-ancient tome tossed in the corner of the dimly lit basement room.

Joseph was a prick. He had… he had… Mary didn’t remember what he’d done to get her so pissed, but she distinctly remembered being absolutely furious and hell-bent on petty revenge. And what better way was there to get back at her church-going husband than to paint a summoning circle in sloppy, bright red paint strokes on the floor of their basement? Joseph would probably have to clean the whole damn thing up with holy water. Mary snorted to herself as she poured herself a glass of wine. She noticed that only half of what she poured out of the bottle actually made it into her glass, but she could truly care less. Just something else for Joseph to clean up. Hopefully he would think it was blood for a bit. That would freak him out.

Man, fuck Joseph.

Mary raised her wine glass to her mouth and placed her lips on the rim, enjoying the feeling of the cool, smooth glass against her face. The summoning circle was done… mostly right. Probably. It sure as hell looked demonic enough to get Joseph to piss his khakis. Mary giggled to herself.

She stumbled as gracefully as she could manage over to the summoning tome and used one to pluck it from off of the ground. The damn thing was heavier than she had remembered and she pitched forward for a moment before she quickly regained her footing, but not before bumping into the small, rosewood table and knocking the vase of assorted snapdragons onto the ground inside of the summoning circle. Mary smirked as the glass shattered and the flowers tumbled across the floor. Another thing for Joseph to worry about. Perfect. She was great at this petty revenge shit.

Mary place her wine glass down and grasped the book with two hands, reading over the incantations. It looked Latin and seemed demonic as all hell (Mary giggled to herself at the pun). Maybe if Joseph came down to her reciting incantations he would faint. That would be fucking gold.

Mary started to read the incantations aloud. She fumbled over the words and she was fairly certain that she mispronounced a good amount of everything, but it still sounded menacing enough. She read the last line and closed the book with a swift and satisfying thump. She dropped it back onto the ground. She started giggling again

This was great. Joseph was going to freak out and he had to clean this and she would have exacted her revenge.

… was the paint glowing?

No, she must have drunk too much wine. But that hadn’t happened to her since college. And she had never thought anything had been glowing faintly before…

Nope. The paint was definitely glowing. And it was getting brighter.

Well. That… probably wasn’t good.

Scratch that. This was probably really bad.

Mary stumbled backwards until she felt the press or drywall against her back through her sweater. She could feel her heart pounding, breath harshening, and hands shaking as she slid to the floor, her legs slowly losing their strength. By the time she was sitting on the floor, the light emitting from the ring was so bright that Mary had to shut her eyes. She scrunched up her face and threw her arms over her head, curling in on herself as the room grew brighter and brighter, the light piercing through her eyelids.

Suddenly, everything went dark. The light had stopped.

Mary didn’t move.

Silence.

Mary let out a sigh of relief.

“If I had to venture a guess, I would say that you’re rather an amateur at this.”

Mary’s head snapped up.

There in the middle of her summoning circle, looking like he had gotten his clothes by raiding a very high class historical reenactment group or from a vampire’s wardrobe, stood a tall man with long dark hair. The clothes were odd but they only held Mary’s attention for a few moments.

The guy’s eyes were purple. And they were glowing.

“What the fuck, I want contacts like that,” Mary blurted. Damn, she was losing what little amount of brain-to-mouth filter that she already possessed.

The man graced her with a bemused look. “I am not wearing contact lenses at the moment, so I rather fail to see what you are trying to communicate to me. Regardless, I am unable to comprehend how you would see it fitting to not place down a salt circle—”

“Your eyes can’t actually be that color,” Mary protested. Her muddled brain was insisting that there was something else she should have taken away from whatever this stranger had just said, but damn his eyes were beautiful.

“I… beg your pardon?”

“No one has eyes like that,” Mary explained. Damn, she could hear her voice slurring. “You… you gotta be wearing contacts.”

The man’s face simply grew more and more baffled. Wow, he had a really nice face. Very chiseled jawline. “My dear, are you aware of what I am?”

Mary blinked. “Uh…”

“I am a demon.”

Mary felt her brain shut down before it kicked into as a high a gear as it could possibly go while drunk.

This man wasn’t a man. He was a demon. In the middle of a summoning circle in her basement. A circle that she had made. And read incantations for.

She had summoned an actual demon.

“Oh fuck me with a pogo stick,” Mary breathed. All of the fear from earlier returned to her with a vengeance. She was going to die. She had summoned a real, living demon and it was going to kill her and with her luck it would eat her soul and she would go to hell and—

A hand landed gently on her shoulder. Her vision came back into focus. The demon was crouching in front of her at eye level, his hand resting on the wool of her sweater. His face seemed… softer. More concerned.

Huh.

“Miss, I assure you that I have no intention of harming you nor cause to do so. Please, attempt to calm yourself.”

Mary took a deep breath. The demon smiled encouragingly.

“Excellent. I believe I understand what is happening. This is your first time summoning, is it not? I must confess that your reactions have made it quite obvious in my eyes.”

His teeth weren’t long and pointy. He didn’t have fangs. Actually, he looked like he was the kind who used to wear braces. His teeth were so straight.

“Miss?”

“Yeah,” Mary breathed out, “can’t say that I’ve ever done this before. Never meant to.”

The demon’s face scrunched up again and his head cocked to the side. “How does one not mean to draw out a full summoning circle, place flowers inside of it, then recite the incantations necessary to summon a demon?”

Mary made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I was really drunk, okay? And I am still completely shitfaced. This is not how I was planning this to go.”

The demon regarded her with a surprised expression, his eyebrows high and eyes wide. “Do you mean to tell me that you accidentally summoned me here?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

The demon’s perplexity appeared to fade away. “Were you… aware of which demon you meant to summon? Why did you choose me?”

Mary shrugged. “I just flipped to a random page and got cracking.”

The demon’s face went blank and appeared to lighten by several tones.

“Well then,” his voice rasped. He cleared his throat. “I suppose that you’re lucky that it was I you summoned. You did not take any of the proper precautions that are necessary when one is summoning a demon. Had you chosen any other page, I am certain that you would have met your death in a rather bloody fashion.”

Mary gulped.

“Fortunately,” the demon smiled, “I have no interest in killing you.”

“Don’t you dare kill my husband,” Mary said.

The demon shook his head. “No, of course not. I apologize, I should have stated that more broadly. I have no interest in killing anyone. Rather, it goes quite against my nature and my morals.”

“Demons have morals?” Mary asked.

The demon giggled. What the fuck, demons could giggle?

“I suppose that I am more of an exception rather than the general rule,” the demon said. “Most all other demons I’ve been acquainted with are quite unlike me.”

Mary nodded. Made enough sense. This guy dressed like she pictured a demon would but he acted like… a pretty swell guy, actually.

Oh god. She used the word swell. Joseph was infecting her.

“So… what do you do?” Mary asked. “Like, the whole fire and brimstone thing. Can you, I dunno, set stuff on fire?”

And then the demon did something Mary never would have guessed. He ducked his head and bit at his lip. If Mary didn’t know better, then she would say that the demon was almost ashamed.

“Ah, no. Not quite,” the demon whispered out. Holy shit, he sounded dejected now and it tugged on Mary’s cold, dark heartstrings more than it ought to have. “If you would like the truth, my abilities have nothing to do with that.”

“Then what can you do?” Mary wondered.

The demon placed the hand on her shoulder onto the floor and inhaled deeply. Green sprigs of soft light started to flow through the creases in the tiled floor and wrapped around the demon’s hand. The flowing green… magic (?) weaved itself together as it began to take form. Mary blinked and in the next moment there was a beautiful, perfectly healthy snapdragon resting in the palm of the demon’s hand. The whole thing had taken maybe two seconds.

“I am what many have called a flower demon,” he said, raising the snapdragon in front of him, holding it with something that bordered reverence. “I… create flowers and have the ability to manipulate plants in a number of different ways. In fact, I believe that you could consider me the opposite of ‘fire and brimstone’.”

“Dude,” Mary gently took the flower from the demon, “that is the some of the coolest shit I’ve seen in forever.”

The demon beamed. “I’m glad that you find my powers to be impressive. Now, forgive me if I’m being too forward, but could I inquire as to what your name may be?”

“Call me Mary,” she said with a lopsided grin. “Any what about you, sailor?”

“Ah,” once again, the demon appeared flustered. “I don’t truly have a name. I am to be called by whichever title is deemed appropriate by my summoner.”

“I get to name you?”

“In a way of speaking, yes,” the demon conceded, “though it’s only done when a contract is made. However, I care little for what I am called by and will likely agree with any suggestion you make so long as it is acceptable.”

“Awesome,” Mary grinned. She paused. “Wait, are we not in a contract right now?”

The demon shook his head. “No, we are not. That was a factor in determining that you had never engaged in this practice before. What you did, Miss Mary, was summon a demon—nothing more and nothing less. There is nothing binding the two of us to each other nor any other specifications. The only thing you did was bring me onto the mortal plane.”

“So you can just up and leave whenever you want,” Mary surmised. At the demon’s nod, she continued, “Could you go back to… wherever you were before then?”

The demon scowled. “I can indeed, Miss Mary. However, I have no desire to do so. To find out I may exist on the mortal plane without the presence of a contract is rather exciting. I have no intentions of leaving any time soon.”

An idea was starting to form in Mary’s head. “So you’re gonna stay here for a while?”

“I believe that is what I just stated, yes?”

“Okay, so you need a place to live. You have one of those?”

The demon sighed. “Unfortunately, I do not. I have an account that I made with a bank over in London. Or rather, I had an account. It has been a long while since I have been summoned and I am uncertain as to whether or not that account is still in place. If it is, there should be a sufficient amount of funds to purchase a home. Why do you ask?”

Mary grinned. “I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

It was three days later when Damien moved into the house in the cul-de-sac.

Mary had decided to name him Damien Bloodmarch, a conclusion reached both by practicality and Mary’s sense of amusement. Damien was quite used to responding to cries of ‘demon’ so a name with similar auditory properties would make it much easier for him to realize when someone was addressing him and left him with little worry of forgetting it. He was still lost on the surname, but Mary insisted it was ironic and she seemed pleased with herself so he left it at that.

Damien had been pleased when he was able to track down his bank account and found out that his funds had accumulated a rather healthy amount of interest. He was quite well-off now. Rich, Mary had said. Damien supposed that she wasn’t exactly wrong.

They used the money in order to buy clothes from the current century and though Mary insisted Damien looked wonderful, he very much longed for what had become his typical wardrobe.

“Don’t worry,” Mary had said. “We’ll get something that you like later. For now you need to blend in.”

Mary had assisted him in getting all of his affairs together. She informed Damien that should he retain the desire to remain on the mortal plane for any extended period of time, he needed the proper certificates and documentation to be able to do much of anything. Damien was quite skilled at forgery, considering his status as a demon and all, but he did not have a strong understanding of the current governmental workings of America and thus was largely removed from the process. Mary hadn’t seemed to have the best grasp of it, though hers was certainly better than Damien’s. She assured him that she was getting assistance from a friend of hers and was being as discreet and nondescript as possible. She had yet to lie to Damien yet, so he had little reason to doubt her.

The documentation and forgery process took a short amount of time. Mary told him it was because her friend was secretly a genius and between the two of them they could get just about anything they wanted. Damien thanked Mary profusely. The next day, Damien was the owner of the only non-inhabited house in the cul-de-sac. It was one house removed from Mary’s and nestled between the house on the end of the cul-de-sac and the somewhat run down one that was beside Mary’s home.

Damien had yet to meet any other humans with the exception of Mary’s husband, Joseph. Mary usually refrained from speaking about him at all if she could help it. Damien wasn’t quite sure what he thought of Joseph. The man appeared kind-hearted but his voice would gain an underlying layer of steel when he spoke to Mary and, while he was polite, seemed to give Damien the cold shoulder. Damien wondered what he could have done to draw Joseph’s ire and could not even begin to fathom why the man would be anything but delightful to Mary. Mary was wonderful. Her sense of humor was something he was still adjusting to and she had a few vices, but she was altogether a lovely lady who had summoned him from what was literally hell and was helping him to live on Earth.

In Damien’s eyes, Mary was a good person. Not a perfect or an unfailingly kind one, but a good one all the same.

Damien tended to stay away from Joseph if it was possible.

Not that Joseph went out of his way to be around Damien. The man seemed uneasy around him and generally avoided Damien, though the manner in which he did so was somehow subtle and strangely polite.

Regardless, Joseph wasn’t someone Damien had been around often in the past three days. Mary, however…

“Hey Dames,” Mary greeted as she swung open the front door. She surveyed the not-really-a-foyer foyer and the plain walls and the neutral colored furniture. “Wow, this is super dull. I would expect a Victorian demon to have a dope house.”

Damien shrugged. “I believe it was you who mentioned ‘blending in’, Mary.”

“Guess you’re right. You got any wine?”

“Cupboard above the icebox,” Damien replied. One of the first things he had learned about Mary was that the woman could drink like a fish without so much as getting tipsy. Damien couldn’t even begin to imagine how much alcohol she had consumed the night that they had first met.

“Thanks Dames, you’re the best.”

Damien gave a fond, exasperated sigh as Mary sauntered into the kitchen. He continued to move furniture and unpack the items he and Mary had purchased for the house the previous day.

Hopefully, once Mary decreed that he had blended in enough, he could don and purchase Victorian garb. He felt exposed without his cloak and jacket and vest. The only problem he could truly foresee was that others might become suspicious at his behavior and that he may not even be able to acquire the correct garments.

Still, giving up those clothes would be a small price for escaping hell for the first time since the Victorian Era. Damien couldn’t say that he was upset.

When Mary returned to the living room, it was with two glasses filled with red wine. She handed one to Damien.

“A toast,” she said, her voice louder and fuller than normal, a grin playing at her lips as she rose her glass, “to Mister Damien Bloodmarch and the beginning of his new life.”

Damien raised his own wine glass and gently tapped its rim to Mary’s glass. A soft, chiming note played out before they each took a sip.

 _Yes_ , Damien thought with a smile as he watched Mary throw back the rest of her wine and down it all in record time, _I could get used to this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want, let me know what you think! I would really appreciate feedback.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert meets a flower demon and what he thinks is the Dover Ghost. Damien is worried and protective. Mary needs more alcohol to deal with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cranked this out really fast.

There was something up with the new guy. Robert knew it. He had that feeling in his gut and his gut had never been wrong before.

Well, it had been wrong. It was a gut. But his gut feeling was accurate most of the time and he even ate salad for lunch one day just to make sure it was actually a gut feeling and not his stomach. Totally different things but they felt too damn similar.

The feeling had started two days after the new guy had moved in and came and knocked on Robert’s door. Robert had been hungover and had ignored it, but snuck a quick, discrete look out the window. He hadn’t come back, but Robert’s interest was piqued nonetheless.

It had been a week since then and the feeling had not left him.

He watched his new neighbor go in and out of his house, most times with Mary and sometimes without. But he was usually with Mary. Robert hadn’t known that Mary had that many friends other than him, but then again the two of them were essentially drinking buddies. They could both hold their liquor like fucking champs and both were closed off so it wasn’t that odd that Robert wouldn’t know about one of Mary’s friends. But still, the guy was… weird? No, that wasn’t the right word. The guy wasn’t weird. He was more…

Fuck it, Robert had no idea what to call it.

They guy just walked different. His stride seemed to be that of royalty, he was always reaching to fidget with something that wasn’t there, his hair was too damn perfect, and from what Robert could see through the window of the guy’s living room (Robert wasn’t fucking creep, there was just a window and he had looked through it, that was all) it was pretty bland.

It was like the guy was trying to be too normal when he was obviously anything but.

It made Robert suspicious.

And then there was Mary who had asked him about how documentation worked. Robert had been able to answer some of her questions and he knew a guy from the army who was crazy good at bullshitting papers. It wasn’t much trouble to hook him up to Mary and the two of them had worked on whatever the fuck it was that they were working on. Robert had been curious but hadn’t cared enough to follow up.

Now he wished that he had.

Whatever, couldn’t change it now. He would just have to wait for a bit and then start figuring stuff out on his own.

* * *

Two days later, it was the gargoyles that got Robert curious about Damien again.

Damien had started what looked like a foundation for a huge garden, which Robert could appreciate. Flowers were nice. Pretty. Smelled good. He had nothing against flowers.

He only started to give Damien’s garden the side-eye when he saw gargoyles.

Who the fuck even used gargoyles anymore for anything, let alone a garden?

Something was up.

Well. A friendly visit wouldn’t be a bad idea now, would it?

* * *

Damien was surprised when he heard his doorbell ring at around eight in the evening. Mary had never come over this late without warning before and Damien hardly expected Joseph to willingly enter his home. Maybe it was his next-door-neighbor, Hugo? But the man seemed far too nice and polite to ever consider coming over at this hour.

Damien narrowed his eyes and placed the book he had been reading on the coffee table. Well, no sense in not opening the door. He didn’t want anyone thinking he was rude.

Damien opened the door.

The man in front of him was rugged and his eyes spoke of pain. The man gave the feeling of someone whose soul was aging faster than their body.

Damien smiled.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve ever met before,” Damien greeted cheerfully. “My name is Damien Bloodmarch. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Damien restrained himself from bowing, but just barely. Mary had quickly informed him that it was not a common practice to bow or courtesy as a form of greeting a new person after he had done so with one of the salesclerks at a clothing shop they had gone to. Poor thing had been red in the face and Damien couldn’t help but wonder how an act of respect had become something that even strangers felt embarrassment at when done to them. He had told as much to Mary and she had simply rolled her eyes, telling Damien that embarrassment had had nothing to do with the salesclerk’s reaction.

Damien didn’t really get it, but accepted it and moved on.

The man on his doorstep looked him up and down rather obviously before seeming to nod to himself. “Yeah. The name’s Robert.”

“Once again, a pleasure to meet you, Robert.” Another thing Mary had said: don’t call other people “mister” or “miss” or “sir” unless they asked you to because that, too, was apparently an oddity now. “Would you like to come inside? I will admit I wasn’t expecting company tonight, but I would be more than happy to get to know you. Are you a member of this cul-de-sac?”

“Uh, yeah.” Robert jerked his head to the house between Damien’s and Mary’s. “I live next door.”

Damien let his smile widen. “Oh, how wonderful! I had tried to introduce myself when I first moved in, but it didn’t appear as if anyone was home. I was hesitant to do so again, you see, and I’ve been rather busy what with moving in.”

“Uh huh,” Robert said. “Well, I don’t have anything for you, just wanted to swing by. You friends with Mary?”

“Oh yes, Mary is delightful,” Damien beamed. “I’m incredibly grateful that I may count her as one of my few friends. I don’t know where I would be without her.”

Robert cocked an eyebrow. “Alright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, please, come in, come in,” Damien stepped out of the way of the doorframe. Robert hesitated a moment before coming through. Damien shut the door. “Would you like anything to eat or drink? I suppose it may be a bit late, but—”

“You got whiskey?” Robert asked.

“I’m afraid not, no,” Damien headed over to the icebox and opened the cabinet above it. “I do have wines that I know Mary enjoys, though.”

Robert waved him off. “Never mind. I don’t need anything.”

“Oh, alright.” Damien closed the cupboard and made his way to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Before he could get there, he heard Robert make a noise not dissimilar to a grunt. Damien stopped and turned to face him.

“I just wanted to say ‘hi’, try to seem a bit neighborly,” Robert said. His voice wasn’t monotone, but there was a quality that Damien could only describe as static to it. “I don’t really want to sit down and… talk. So I’m going to leave. If you never see me again, assume I’m dead.”

“What?”

“Those cryptids are nasty,” Robert continued as he walked back to the door and opened it. ‘Any hunt may be your last.”

The door closed and Robert was gone.

* * *

Joseph startled, the cookie dough almost flying from the mixing bowl. He looked up from his baking. Someone had just knocked on the door. Not loudly enough to be scary, but Joseph had been too absorbed in his batter. He placed the bowl down and walked to the door. Who came over and knocked when it was past eight at night?

It was Damien.

Of course.

Joseph didn’t mind Damien. He really, truly didn’t. Damien was unfailingly polite and respectful from what he had seen thus far. There was just something about the man that left Joseph feeling off-balance. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Damien, great to see you again,” Joseph smiled. “Are you looking for Mary?”

“Yes, I am. Would you happen to know where she is?” Damien asked. He seemed more tense than usual.

“You’re in luck. She’s just upstairs in our room.” Joseph turned to the stairs. “Mary, Damien is here!”

There was a pause then a loud “I’m coming!” came rolling down the stairs.

“Thank you, Joseph,” Damien said. Even with the cheerfulness that Damien usually exuded, the man seemed stressed. Joseph couldn’t help but hope that Damien would feel better after talking about whatever he wanted to talk about with Mary.

Mary appeared at the top of the stairwell and descended the steps far more quickly than any woman who drank copious amounts of wine and wore high heels had right to.

“Dames, hey,” Mary greeted. She looked over Damien. “Something’s wrong.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘wrong’, per se—”

“Nope, something is wrong,” Mary interrupted. “Joseph, honey, I’m going over to Dames’s place for a bit, okay?”

“Of course,” Joseph agreed. He turned to Damien and teased, “Have her home by midnight.”

Damien nodded as Mary dragged him outside.

* * *

“Okay, now you tell me what’s wrong, Dames,” Mary declared as she sat on Damien’s couch.

“I’m just worried,” Damien answered, his words drawn out and quiet. “Do you know that our mutual neighbor is going out and hunting supernatural beings?”

“… are you talking about Robert? And cryptid hunting?” Mary asked.

“Indeed.”

“Dames—”

“Does he have any idea how dangerous some of these creatures are?” Damien implored. “Any semblance of the harm he risks putting himself in? I’m aware that there is not a full moon tonight, but what if there were and he went seeking a werewolf? He could get himself killed or bitten, and I highly doubt that a lone human—”

Mary cut Damien off, “Woah, hold up. Are you telling me that cryptids are real?”

Damien gave her a quizzical look. “Why would they not be?”

“Jesus Christ, Dames. Bring me two bottles of wine.”

“Not until you tell me what qualifies Robert to go out at night and attempt to track down creatures that could easily dispose of him!”

“Holy fuck, Damien. No one believes in cryptids.”

Damien’s fury began to fade fast, “Truly?”

“Yeah, no one thinks that they exist. Maybe Robert really does, but I can tell you that he’s never gotten attacked by one before. He’s probably just going to the bar and getting drunk or whittling somewhere by himself.”

“Oh,” Damien let himself practically fall onto the big, plush chair. Mary had never seen him do anything with that much lack of grace.

“Yeah, Robert is fine, Dames,” Mary assured. “He knows how to take care of himself and even if he didn’t, you don’t need to worry about… werewolves and shit. He’s more likely to get mugged than anything else, and I can’t see that happening anytime soon.”

Damien snorted. “No, I can’t imagine anyone considering him to be a helpless victim. I may not have felt intimidated by him, but I can easily imagine how others would.”

Mary scoffed. “You didn’t think Robert was intimidating.”

Damien did that thing where he shrugged without actually moving his shoulders and damn if Mary wasn’t once again struck with just how elegant he was. “I think if I were a human I would have been babbling and stuttering. Mayhap not, but I would have been nervous. However, I am not a human. I am a demon. I don’t believe there is much anyone but you can do to seriously injure me or send me back to hell.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You summoned me,” Damien answered. “While we may not share a contract or a bond, you still summoned me and thus are the only human who could cause me harm through non-supernatural means or banish me from the mortal plane. I suppose another human could as well, but it would be much more challenging if they were to endeavor on such a task.”

“Huh, good to know. But Dames?”

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t kidding about the wine. Holy fucking hell, cryptids exist.”

* * *

Damien walked Mary home once she had indulged in enough wine to kill most humans. Not that Mary needed him to walk her home. She was walking in her typical, flowing stride with her head held high. Mary had the alcohol tolerance of a demon, which was no small feat, and Damien wasn’t entirely certain that she wouldn’t be able to outdrink some demons he knew.

Mary’s mythical drinking abilities aside, Damien made the short trek to Mary’s front door, wished her well, graciously received a hug from her (he still wasn’t used to all the casual touches that many humans seemed to be accustomed to), and made his way back to his home.

He had only just met Robert, and while Damien was sure that the man wanted little to nothing to do with him, he couldn’t just let him go off and hunt mystical creatures which he knew nothing about. Damien knew about them. Oh, he knew all about them. Almost every demon had extensive experience in dealing with such creatures. Some could be incredibly helpful while others could kill enough humans to fill a small village. Most demons found knowledge to be paramount to any operation and they all had millennia to figure out as much as they could.

It was also helpful that demons, as more magical creatures, could sense the auras and presence of other beings that possessed traces of magic. Vampire, werewolves, howlers, ghouls… the list of dangerous creatures went on and on. Most would never be foolish enough to cross a demon, but a human?

Damien but as his lip. He reached back to fidget with his cloak before he realized that he wasn’t, in fact, wearing it. He let his hand fall to his side. Mary had said that Robert had never been attacked before and that no one in Maple Bay had so much as seen a supernatural being, but… that didn’t mean one couldn’t pass through. Damien had kept some tabs on the human world, enough to not be startled by the technology and know some of the vernacular. He also knew that werewolves had taken to drifting from town to town, never staying in one place for too long. What if Robert met one? He wouldn’t get bit—like he had ranted at Mary, it wasn’t a full moon—but werewolves, regardless of their form, had incredible strength and senses.

Perhaps… perhaps he should just check on Robert. It would not do well for Mary’s next-door neighbor to die a gruesome death.

* * *

Something was up. Robert could feel it in his gut.

Damien was odd. A bit fidgety, kinda wordy, and pretty formal, but he was also ridiculously friendly and wore his heart on his sleeve. Jesus, Robert could practically feel the excitement radiating off of Damien while the guy was talking. The gargoyles were weird, yeah, but Robert guessed that everyone had some weird quirks. Those in glass houses shouldn’t cast stones or masturbate during the daytime and all that.

Satisfied that Damien wasn’t an immediate threat, he had made his way from the cul-de-sac and towards the park, forging through it and into the woods. It was dark at night. Obviously. But it was darker in the woods than it was on the street or in the park. The trees kept out the light. Perfect time for strolling around. Looking for cryptids. Not just enjoying the night. Nope, Robert was gonna find Bigfoot. He’d even settle for Mothman. He just wasn’t… looking too hard. Not tonight. He was just patrolling now. Making sure that nothing had changed.

Yeah. That sounded good.

Only problem was that he felt like something was watching him. Something dangerous and something powerful. Something… evil.

It had to be the Dover Ghost. Robert had never encountered it before, but there were rumors of it. They were few and far between and inconsistent but damn if it didn’t make him want to find the bastard.

Robert hunched his shoulders inward, slowed down. He had to seem oblivious. If it knew that he knew it was there, it would attack.

If it thought that he didn’t know, it would attack.

…  _fuck_.

Robert tried to scan the area as subtly as he could. Not exactly easy to do it when it was dark as fucking pitch, but you know it never hurt to—

What in the name of all that was sharp and stabby was  _that_.

There, perched in the canopy of the trees not even ten yards behind him, was a humanoid figure. Creepy, sure, but whatever. But this thing—

It had  _glowing purple eyes_.

When Robert told the story later about the Dover Ghost, he would say that he looked it in the face, stared it down, slashed at it with his knife, nearly got dragged into the woods, and then valiantly escaped into the night.

He would never tell them that he shrieked out a noise that was almost at the pitch of a dog whistle and fucking bolted for the tree line, managing to trip over three roots before landing in a heap just outside the woods. He quickly rolled off of his stomach and scanned the woods.

The eyes were gone.

Yeah, okay, fuck that shit.

Robert stood up and ran home.

* * *

Damien felt like an idiot.

He had forgotten about his eyes. When he was simply going about mundane, non-magical tasks on the mortal realm, his eyes were brown, “dark honey” Mary called them. Damien could appreciate the imagery, but he believed that hazel would be a more than adequate descriptor when applied to him.

But when Damien channeled any amount of magic, even just reaching out to find other auras, his eyes took on a purple hue and a bioluminescent quality. He had forgotten that he had to take care to hide them when tracking and now he had terrified poor Robert. He hadn’t meant to scare the man, simply watch over him to make sure that nothing more dangerous than a pixie crossed his path. And now he had gone and made a mess of it.

Damien felt guilty yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. If this scared Robert off of hunting cryptids, then the man would be much safer. Maple Bay wasn’t exactly a paranormal magnet, but it did have a pull to it, an allure, that most mundane areas lacked. Damien had no doubt that magical beings visited the area, if only for a short time. He hadn’t crossed anything on Robert’s admittedly short journey, but there was still a whole town.

With a sigh to himself, Damien dropped down from his perch on the tree branch and landed with all of the grace of a cat onto the ground.

Well, this hadn’t gone quite as planned, but Damien would happily consider this a success if it kept Robert from his “cryptid hunting”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want, let me know what you think! I would really appreciate feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christiansens are having a cookout and everyone in the cul-de-sac is invited! Whether they want to be or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally settling into the swing of classes and whatnot, so here is the next chapter. It's kinda filler right now. Damien will be meeting a bunch of the other Dads which is what this chapter is setting up. Also, for those who asked about Lucien: I have a plan to work him in, fear not. It will be a bit though.
> 
> And this is going to be a smallmarch fic. Just wanted to wait for the gay to start before I put the tag in.
> 
> Lastly, thank you to everyone who reviewed, bookmarked, and left kudos! It warms my heart.

Robert did not stop cryptid hunting.

Damien couldn’t help but to wonder if his neighbor had a death wish, simply didn’t care, or believed that he would be able to handle all manner of magical entities that crossed paths with him.

No matter how he looked at it, Robert was being incredibly foolish.

Damien didn’t know Robert well enough to judge whether or not this was the man’s typical behavior—they were neighbors who had held a conversation for less than five minutes. Mary had had told Damien that she and Robert were drinking buddies; friends, even. Mary obviously knew Robert better than Damien did, so he should just take her word for it and leave the man alone to whatever it was he got up to.

Damien never was particularly good at playing the role of the bystander.

Still, there was nothing that Damien could truly do except to use his magic to search for the auras of other magical creatures. If anything came back too strong or too hostile, Damien would simply have to step in before Robert could get himself hurt.

… he hoped that would be enough.

For now, though, he couldn’t spend too much time worrying over it. Mary would be coming over soon and Damien didn’t need nor desire to cause her unnecessary anxiety. He was simply apprehensive over Robert’s wellbeing but Mary was quite secure in her belief of it. No reason for Mary to be worried over Damien’s concerns.

The doorbell rang.

“Mary!” Damien opened the door with a grin. “Please, come in. I’m delighted to have you over.”

“Always so formal,” Mary said it lieu of greeting him. “One might think that you weren’t from this time era.”

“Hm, wherever would they get that idea?” Damien replied, shutting the door. Mary’s sort of humor wasn’t of a brand that he had met before. It was sarcasm spoken as if it were not and attempts to mislead using rather ridiculous statements. It had taken some getting used to, but Damien couldn’t imagine his life without it now.

The Victorians’ humor hadn’t been something he’d had much time to observe and see, considering he had delegated tasks and missions and those who had summoned him rarely made any form of small talk with him, let alone attempt to amuse him. Demons… they had a sense of humor that Damien could only describe as nonsensically crude, sadistically cruel, and ludicrously gory.

… he rather liked to avoid it if he could.

“So,” Mary said as she liberated a bottle of wine from his cupboard and began pouring herself a glass. She only stopped once the crimson liquid had all but reached the rim of the glass and then took a long sip.

“Would you care to finish that thought?” Damien asked.

“So it’s been more than three weeks. How are you settling in?”

Damien couldn’t help the warm, soft smile that tugged at his lips. “I love it here. It’s brilliant. The people are wonderful and the neighborhood is magnificent and… I can’t possibly imagine any other place I would rather spend my time in.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Great people, huh? Dames, you haven’t talked with anyone except for me and Joseph.”

“That is wholly untrue. I spoke with Robert and Hugo.”

“Dames, I introduced you to Hugo and you two exchanged five sentences max. And as far as I know, you and Robert have had exactly one conversation. You haven’t interacted with either of them outside of that.”

Damien wisely chose not to mention the fact that he had been keeping a watch over Robert since he had spoken with the man. “They both seem pleasant enough. Besides, you and Joseph are wonderful. Who else could I possibly need?”

Mary shook her head. “Nope. I’m not letting you become a hermit. You’re living life as a human now so that means you have to socialize like one. You’re meeting everyone else in the cul-de-sac.”

“Am I now?”

“Yup. Me and Joseph are having a barbecue. Everyone is invited. You’re coming.”

“Ah.” Well, Damien couldn’t say that he wasn’t excited at the prospect of meeting others who lived so close to him. However, he hadn’t quite perfected the… human interaction part of being a human.

“I’ll be at your side for every single second,” Mary said. “I know you’re worried about being awkward and not getting stuff right, but you’ll be fine. If anyone is a dick I’ll beat their ass.”

Damien felt a chuckle slip out. “I am most gleeful to know that a valiant lady such as yourself will be defending my honor from any slights imposed upon it.”

Mary downed the rest of the wine and went to pour herself another glass. “Yeah, yeah. No need to use all those big words. You know that my tiny mortal mind can’t keep up with that shit.”

“When will the… barbecue be?”

Mary looked up and made eye contact with Damien. “Holy fuck you don’t know what a barbecue is.”

“Oh no, believe you me, I do know. I’ve simply never used the term before.”

“What a fucking nerd.” Mary placed the bottle down. “It’s on Saturday at two in the afternoon. Sound good?”

“I highly doubt that I have much choice in the matter.”

“Right you are, my friend.”

* * *

 

Robert didn’t want to go to Wonder Bread’s barbeque. He really, truly didn’t. He had better things to do with his time. Like… taking shots of whiskey or playing with his totally ferocious and dangerous dog, Betsy, or whittling or literally anything else.

The only problem was that Mary had more or less told him if he didn’t go that there would be consequences. Robert had little to no idea what that would entail, but he did know that once of the basic Rules of Survival was Don’t Fuck with Mary Christiansen so dammit if he wasn’t going to get his ass in gear and go to Fuckboy McGee’s cookout.

At the very worst he’d just stand in the corner, devour as many burgers as he could stomach, then grab as many as he could inconspicuously carry back to his house so he could just pop them in the microwave for dinner later in the week. Solid plan.

For these reasons alone, Robert found himself blinking against sunlight that streamed through the windows, chipper alarm beeping and chirping and doing the rude thing where it woke him up. He fumbled for his phone and hit the snooze button. He checked the time. A minute past noon. Huh. He must have slept through his first five alarms. Figures.

Robert stood up and stretched the best he could. He had showered last morning so he was good for the rest of the day. Now all he needed to do was find some presentable clothing and he would be ready to go lurk in Mary’s backyard.

Robert stumbled out of his bed and glanced around the floor. There, a red shirt. Robert picked up and held it to his face, taking a sniff. It’d didn’t smell like shit, so it would work just fine.

Robert quickly changed into his clothes and shrugged on his signature leather jacket. God, he loved the thing. Once he didn’t look like complete shit and had brushed his teeth, he plopped down on the couch of his living room and turned on the television. Hell yeah, Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers was on. It was only a rerun but seriously, the show was fucking gold. He quickly set another alarm, just in case. The show was enthralling as all fuck and Robert would rather not piss Mary off by blowing the barbeque off in favor of amazing reality TV.

When the alarm finally went off, Robert threw his head back with a groan. He flicked the TV off and meandered on over and out the door. He took one deep breath before he marched on over to Mary’s house.

God, Mary owed him so much fucking alcohol for this.

* * *

Damien had been the first to arrive. He had figured that it would only be polite to show up early and offer his assistance to Mary and Joseph, considering the two seemed to be hosting this get-together in his honor. Truly, it was incredibly kind of them.

Damien had helped set out eating utensils, went out with Mary to buy all of the condiments they could possibly conceive of, and assisted in preparing what Joseph described as his “legendary” chocolate-chip cookies. Damien wasn’t sure how Joseph’s cookies could have reached such a status so he assumed it was something of a joke.

Regardless, Damien had felt rather proud of his contribution and, by the time the start of the event rolled around, everything was perfectly set up.

“We did a pretty kick-ass job,” Mary stated.

“I have to admit, I think this has been some of the fastest and best prep work for a party that we’ve ever done,” Joseph agreed as he looked over the yard. “Thank you, Damien. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.”

Damien smiled. Joseph seemed to take in a policy of avoidance around him, so to hear such sincere gratitude… well, Damien was rather moved.

“It was no trouble at all,” Damien assured. “It was an honor to lend you my assistance.”

Damien could practically hear Mary rolling her eyes while Joseph let out a small chuckle. “Sure thing, buddy.”

Damien perked up. Joseph had called him his buddy! He had never done so before.

Damien was touched.

“Oh hold up, angtsy grunge man approaching from four o’clock,” Mary said, brandishing her arm to their right and pointing. Damien followed her line of sight and was quickly graced with the sight of Robert sauntering into the yard.

“You cut me deep, Mary,” Robert smirked. “You just gotta hit right where it hurts.”

Mary grinned. “What are friends for?”

“Fuck if I know.” Robert looked over to Joseph before letting his gaze slide over him and on to Damien. “Good to see you again.”

Damien couldn’t help but smile at the man. “And it’s a pleasure to greet you again as well. I confess that I am most grateful that I am seeing you once again; I rather appreciate the confirmation that you are not, in fact, dead.”

That seemed to startle a laugh out of Robert. “Who knows, maybe I’m a ghost and my specter has come back to haunt you.”

“Oh dear, that would be most alarming.”

“God, you two are such dweebs,” Mary interrupted. “I can’t handle this much nerdiness.”

“You’re just jealous that you won’t come back as a ghost,” Robert taunted.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m going to go and get myself a glass of wine.”

And with that, Mary sauntered into her home, presumably to find her poison of choice.

Joseph cleared his throat in a move that Damien immediately recognized as one of discomfort. “Well, I better go after her and grab some wine for the party before she drinks it all. I’ll be right back.”

Joseph quickly followed Mary, leaving Damien and Robert alone in the backyard. 

 _Well,_ Damien thought, _there’s no reason to let silence fall upon us._

“So, Robert,” Damien turned to the man, letting a smile form, “all jests aside, I would like to say that I am pleased that you’re doing well. I was actually quite worried about your wellbeing after you departed. Mary assured me that everything was fine, of course, and I must admit that I was rather relieved.”

“… huh,” was the eloquent response that Damien received. He was not going to let Robert’s unreadable expression deter him.

“Mary did tell me that you were out hunting…” Damien feigned stumbling over the word, “cryptids, was it? I’m most curious as to how you involved yourself in that particular pastime. I don’t suppose that you would mind telling me? I find it most intriguing.”

Damien wasn’t lying. The idea that a human glimpsed into the supernatural and was not only unafraid but then actively sought out the paranormal… it was equally foolhardy and admirable.

Though really, Robert shouldn’t be out doing anything without protection.

The only reaction that Damien was able to garner from Robert was a blank stare. Damien could only wonder what the man might be thinking. He truly hoped he hadn’t said anything to give away his… less than human nature. Or maybe Robert simply thought him odd?

Oh, what he would give to know what this man was thinking!

* * *

Robert was floored.

This man had been genuinely concerned for his safety. Robert was used to people brushing off his cryptic words, dismissing his as a weirdo or a dramatic prick. Knowing that someone had listened to him, taken his words to heart, and then been sincerely worried was new. And Robert was pretty fucking sure that Damien was telling the truth. Robert liked to think that he was good enough at weaving stories and fake accounts to be able to pick up on when someone was lying or trying to pull a fast one. Damien most definitely did not give Robert any of those vibes.

So that was something. Damien actually gave a shit about him. 

And then. Then Damien asked about cryptids.

Yeah, Robert mostly used cryptid hunting as a joke or something to weird people out, but he genuinely believed that there was shit out there that was beyond rational explanation, creatures whose very existence was questioned. Things that couldn’t be explained.

To have someone _not_ dismiss him out of hand and then make an attempt to engage him on the topic out of nothing but innocent curiosity…

Yeah, Robert was thrown for a bit of a loop.

Throw all of that in with the fact that Damien was pretty handsome and smiled like someone had personally handed him the sun, and Robert almost felt a little flustered.

And fuck he should probably respond like any normal human being because Damien’s smile was slipping and that was when it registered in Robert’s brain that standing there silently was not a good way to keep a conversation going. Much as he valued silence, even he could realize that there was a time and place for it. That time was not while someone who seemed to be a genuinely good person tried to engage him in a conversation.

“Oh, you know,” Robert shrugged, attempting to feign nonchalance (which he was pretty fucking great at), “your typical story. Used to be a skeptic, never believed in any of that bullshit. Ran into something I couldn’t explain, scared me to hell and back again. Been a believer ever since. Not I just patrol, make sure that nothing steps too far outta line. Someone’s gotta keep the Dover Ghost in check.”

Damien’s head cocked to the side in a way that Robert could only associate with a puppy. “I cannot say that I am at all familiar with the Dover Ghost.”

Robert looked off to where Joseph was coming out of the door into the backyard in order to greet Brian. He continued, “Real nasty thing. Sticks to forested area. Stalks you in the dead of night. Looks like a human that was built wrong. Glowing purple eyes.”

When Robert turned back, Damien’s face scrunched in a way that he interpreted as nervousness. Time to milk it.

“Maybe a few weeks ago, I saw it clearly for the first time. I looked into its eyes. It wanted to murder me at the very least. Who knows what else it would have done to me if it had gotten a hold of me. But I’m a professional. It lunged at me, claws out and teeth snapping. I jumped back before it could take a chunk out of me. I had my knife out, but even I’m not batshit crazy enough to go head-to-head with this thing. I’ll admit it, I ran. I didn’t want to have any part of what that thing wanted. I booked it from the forest, but I could hear it running after me. I could feel the air move behind me as it swung its claws. And for a few moments, I swear I could feel its breath on my neck. But then, I was out of the woods. I ran onto the sidewalk. The world was brighter in the street. And just like that, it was gone. I looked back. Nothing. Not even any evidence to suggest that I had been running for my life except for my own pounding heart. Scariest experience of my life.”

Damien was now staring at him, wide-eyed and visibly paler than before Robert had begun his little tale.

“But don’t worry too much,” Robert hastened to assure him. “All you need to do is stay out of the forest at night. The thing hates light and never leaves its domain.”

“A-ah. I see,” Damien gave Robert a wavering smile. “Thank you ever so much for the advice. I truly appreciate it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe that I should introduce myself to our neighbors before Mary forcibly drags me into socializing.”

Robert nodded. “Good call.”

With another uneven smile, Damien gave an eloquent wave and turned on his heel, walking towards Hugo.

Robert couldn’t believe that he had scared the guy so badly. Maybe he should tone it down next time. Damien had only really started to go as white as a sheet when Robert had started describing the Dover Ghost.

No more mentioning the Dover Ghost, then. There was absolutely no reason to scare off this sincere and adorable man.


End file.
